It All Started With A Math Test
by Steph5
Summary: A story about Luke because I like him. Oh and it takes place many many years ago, because I wanted to try something different. Please R/R.


It All Started With A Math Test

By Steph (awriter78@hotmail.com)

Summary--A story about Luke, because I like him. A story that takes place many many years ago because I wanted to do something different. And because the ep "One Has Class…" got me thinking.

A/N--Please R/R. And emails are fun too (awriter78@hotmail.com).

A/N #2--Thanks to Jo for your cool picture that inspired me and for reading. Told ya I'd shout you out.

It all started with a math test. Not even a final. A simple, twenty question math test. 

Luke usually liked math too. Well, maybe not liked it, but understood it. It was one of the few subjects that he did okay in. He liked numbers, liked the fact that seven times seven was always forty-nine, no matter what. Unlike an English class where an interpretation of a poem could be way off even if it was what you felt or a History class where a discussion on a war could get you in trouble depending what side your teacher sympathized with, seven times seven always came out the same. He liked sameness, liked order, liked predictability. Liked math.

He had been up till very late the night before doing inventory for the hardware store. His father had planned to work on it with him, but had fallen asleep very early. He was sick again, sicker than last time. And the inventory needed to be completed. So Luke had stayed up till close to two, only to wake up at six. 

He fell asleep during the math test. All those numbers ran together and his head began to throb. He put his head on the table and closed his eyes. He slept until the bell rang when the teacher tapped him on the shoulder. 

He didn't get in trouble. The teacher, like most of the faculty and most of the town, knew that William Danes was not doing well; there was some talk he wouldn't live out the year. The teacher, a compassionate man with three children of his own, decided to let Luke sleep. It was the least he could do. 

"What class do you have next?" the teacher asked him.

"PE," Luke said, still a little disoriented. 

The teacher scribbled something on his pad. "I called the principal. I want you to have a little chat with him now."

He took the pad from the teacher. "Am I being punished?" he asked.

The teacher shook his head. "No. Just talk to him." 

"About what?" Luke asked.

"Your future," the teacher answered cryptically before waving him aside. Students in the teacher's next class began spilling in. They were mostly freshmen. A couple of girls whistled and cooed "Hey Butch." Luke left without responding. He hated that ridiculous nickname. And he hated freshmen. Oh who was he kidding? He hated almost everybody.

It wasn't just the principal. The guidance counselor was there too. Luke sat down across from them and glared. "What's this about?" he asked. 

The guidance counselor made an early mistake by referring to him as Lucas. That was almost as bad as Butch, but for different reasons. "Lucas, we're very concerned about you."

That was a shock to him. He didn't smoke in the boys room, disrupt class or fight without being provoked. Although his grades weren't perfect, he wasn't flunking out. "Thanks," he said. "But I'm okay."

"Would you like to see your file?" the principal asked.

He would rather see the other side of the door, but took the offered file. In loopy cursive writing he read that he "was antisocial with almost misanthropic tendencies," "didn't interact well with others" "rarely participated in class" and "often seemed preoccupied." Ouch, on that last one, he thought sarcastically. 

Luke shrugged and passed it back to the principal. "I can live with that," he said. "Can I go now?"

"Your grades have been slipping too," said the principal. "Would you like a tutor?"

"No," he said immediately. "Thanks for the offer though."

The principal sighed. "You know your sister was on the honor roll for awhile."

Luke almost laughed. And look where that had gotten her. He had just received a postcard from her yesterday with the Statue of Liberty on the front. 

__

Luke--Nick and I are in New York living in some miniscule apartment owned by his old great-aunt Jessica. The place smells horrible, but the aunt is pretty nice. I think she likes me better than she likes Nick. She took me to a flea market to buy some furniture and wants me to call her Jess. ~Liz~ P.S. I have some news for you. You're going to be an uncle soon. 

If having good grades meant that you'd be married and pregnant at twenty and living far away from your home and your responsibilities, then he would take his C average and be proud of it. He looked back at the principal and the guidance counselor. "Is that all?"

"Do you have any plans for college?" the counselor asked.

"Not going," Luke said honestly. Even if he had the burning desire to go, which he didn't, he couldn't leave his father and the store. Simple as that.

"Well what are you going to do after you graduate?" the counselor asked.

"Work," he said simply. "Help my father." Because that's what family did. They didn't run and get married to the first asshole who asked. They didn't leave without looking back. 

The principal and the counselor met each other's eyes. Luke cleared his throat.

"Is it money?" the principal asked. "Maybe you could get some kind of athletic scholarship somehow. You are one of our track stars."

"Money's not the problem," Luke said. 

"Well, there are other options. What are you good at?" the principal asked changing tactics. 

"What do you mean?" Luke asked.

"What are your strengths?" the guidance counselor asked. "You're a good runner and you seem to do fine in math-related classes. If we know what you're good at, we might find something that will interest 

you. What was the last compliment you received?" Both the principal and guidance counselor looked eager, ready to solve the puzzle that was Luke.

The last compliment he received was from Rachel who had been looking over some photographs she had taken of him. "You're a really good subject," she had said. "Your face has such interesting angles." 

And although part of him wanted to see their reaction if he told them he thought he would make a good male model, part of him was worried that they would actually sign him up for modeling classes. Make him start walking around with a book on his head or something. Posing in his underwear or some other ludicrous concept.

No, there was something else. Last week, his Uncle Louie had come over to watch the ballgame with his dad. Luke was thrilled that his father had seemed upbeat and had offered to make them lunch. He ended up barbecuing.

His uncle, after telling Luke that he looked like a pansy in the shirt that he was wearing, took a bite of his burger and said to his brother, "You know this boy of yours didn't get much in the brains department, but he can make a damn fine burger."

"I can cook," Luke said half-heartedly, more to get them off his back than because he actually believed it himself. 

The principal and counselor looked at each other and smiled. "That's great," the counselor said going through some pamphlets before handing one to Luke. "So You Want to Be a Chef!" it read. 

"I have some contacts in some culinary schools in New York," the counselor said excitedly. "I can set up an interview. Do you have a particular specialty?"

"I'm not going to New York," Luke said simply. He stood up. "Is that all?"

"Yes," said the principal. He looked disappointed. "If you ever need to discuss anything, the door is open." He knew about Luke's father's illness as well. The principal held out his hand. The counselor did the same.

Luke sighed, but shook their hands anyway. He tried to hand back the pamphlet. 

"Keep it," the counselor said. "Keep your options open."

He didn't have options. He had duties. He would help his father until he didn't need help anymore. That was what family did. Maybe if Liz had stayed around, they could have both helped out, but that wasn't how things had turned out. He nodded and left the office.

He smiled slightly when he saw Rachel sitting outside the office, engrossed in a photography book.

"Hey," he said. "What are you doing here?" 

"Someone told me that my delinquent boyfriend got sent to the principal's office," she said trying to hide a grin. She wasn't successful. "I decided to wait for him."

"Let's go," he said. "I need to get out of here."

"Okay," she said. They walked outside. He took a deep breath. God he hated that school.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she asked concerned.

"I fell asleep during my math test. Then I had to talk to the principal and the counselor about my post-

graduation plans."

"What did you tell them?"

"That I was going to help my dad."

"So you're planning on staying here," she said. 

"There's no way I'm leaving," he said.

"I know," she said sounding sad. "What's in your hand?"

He handed her the pamphlet. "You want to be a chef?" she asked. "I didn't know that. There are some good schools--"

"I know," he said cutting her off. "In New York."

"There are probably some in Hartford," she pointed out.

"Probably," he said. He wouldn't leave Stars Hollow though. They both knew that.

"I bet you'd look really cute in a chef's hat," Rachel said laughing. Then she stopped suddenly. "That reminds me. I bought you something."

"You didn't have to," he protested.

"But I did," she said. "Close your eyes."

He did as she said. "Now open them."

She held a light green baseball cap in her hands. At the questioning look, she tried to explain. "Green's a really good color on you. And I just thought you might like something new. To cheer you up. I know things have been really hard lately."

They had been. He swallowed, touched at her kindness. "Thanks."

"I wanted to get you something nicer. A new sweater or a dinner out, but…" she didn't finish. Things had been hard on her family lately too. Her mother had lost her part-time job so they were trying to save as much as possible.

He leaned down and kissed her. "I like this. Thank you."

She placed the hat on his head. The hat did look good on him, she had always been good with colors, but he still looked upset. She wished there was more that she could do for him. She took his hat off and put it back on him backwards.

"Luke," she said softly. "I know that things are bad right now, but they will be good very soon. And when things get good again, when you are happy and have everything that you deserve, you'll turn that cap back to the front again. Think of the cap as a symbol."

Although part of him thought she was being a little corny and overdramatic, it was still a sweet gesture and he realized that. "Okay," he agreed. "the cap will stay on backwards."

"And when everything is good, you'll put it the right way."

"We'll put it the right way," he corrected.

"Right," Rachel said. But she wasn't 100 percent sure that she would be here when it happened. She was supposed to find out soon if she had been accepted to a few colleges that she had applied to. Some of them were in different parts of the country. There was a part of her that couldn't wait to get out of this town, to get out and explore, but she hadn't really had that discussion yet with Luke. She would wait until she knew for sure about colleges before she brought it up. She hoped that by then things would be a little better for him.

He must have picked up on her mood, because he turned to her and asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. He nodded. She was struck again by how sad he looked. "Hey," she said touching his arm. "Do me a favor?"

"Anything," he said, meaning it.

"Smile," she said. "It will make me happy."

And because he wanted to make her happy, he did. 

The End


End file.
